


and i'm not your protagonist

by and_hera



Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Dancing, F/M, Fluff, Fuck KFAM Creators, Love, Musings on Jack Wright, Nail Polish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24666526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/and_hera/pseuds/and_hera
Summary: Emily Potter was twenty-seven when she became the head librarian of the King Falls Library, and that is very young compared to Miss Kilpatrick. It’s very young compared to all the mothers who bring their children in. It’s very young! And what she needed was respect. She wanted people to know that she deserved her job, and she wanted people to like her and she wanted people to remember her name.or, Emily Potter is Unwritten and she does her best to survive it.
Relationships: Ben Arnold/Emily Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	and i'm not your protagonist

**Author's Note:**

> working title: take a shot every time i dunk on kfam creators  
> anyway. i write emily pov for two reasons: to project my entire self onto her because she doesn't have much of a canon internal dialogue and also to tell the world how much i love and adore ben arnold  
> this fic is brought to you by hearing the song sweet hibiscus tea by penelope scott (which is where the title comes from!) and losing my shit over emily potter. again. also my brain has been no thoughts head benmily for like three days so  
> ONCE AGAIN I CAN'T FIND ANY OTHER EMILY CHARACTER STUDIES this is a cry for help tell me if there are any more on here! i want them! i'll keep writing them tho!!  
> okay enjoy love u all! take care of urselves!

There are seven steps to being Emily Potter.

Step one: smile.

Smiling makes people happy, and it makes Emily happy, because for some reason, acting like you’re feeling better than you really are helps. She smiles, and people smile back. She smiles, and everyone knows “oh it’s just Emily, just the little librarian, she can’t do any harm” and they leave her alone. Smiles are her defense, smiles are her safety, and she never leaves home without one.

Sometimes, Emily wonders if she shouldn’t smile. It’s always the bad guy in movies who makes the girl smile; and the strong girls always stand up to him, hurt the bad guy and don’t smile, don’t act innocent.

Sometimes, Emily wonders if she shouldn’t smile, but for a different reason, because isn’t it just a _little_ bad to make people think you’re something you’re not? Just a _little_ manipulative? She rarely means her smiles, but it makes her look sweet and innocent, and it is a defense of sorts. It's probably bad.

Whatever. Maybe she’s a good girl in a novel full of bad boys. Maybe she’s a little bitch. Burn the straw house down.

Step two: listen.

Listening is a very useful tool that people do not take advantage of enough. Listening makes people think you’re neutral, and listening makes people think you care about what they’re saying. Listening gives Emily help in conversations because if you can find out what kind of person someone is, you know how to redirect their conversations, and you know how to make them think you like them, and you know what will make them respect you.

Emily Potter was twenty-seven when she became the head librarian of the King Falls Library, and that is very young compared to Miss Kilpatrick. It’s very young compared to all the mothers who bring their children in. It’s very young! And what she needed was _respect_. She wanted people to know that she deserved her job, and she wanted people to like her and she wanted people to remember her name. Even if it was only as a sidenote. Even if it was only as the King Falls librarian.

So, she listened. She learned. She’s always been awfully fond of learning. And she gained respect, if not from everyone, than almost.

Never everyone. Cynthia Higgenbaum exists. But it’s good enough for Emily.

Step three: don’t fall in love.

Falling in love is a mistake; falling in love isn’t useful. Emily has always been one to follow her dreams, and involving someone else just led to mistakes and fights.

This was a step she failed precisely six days before she got her dream job, when she walked into a radio station and was met with a blinding smile from a boy she almost felt like she had always known.

She didn’t bother to take it off the list.

Step four: be strong.

Being strong is a daily challenge. There were days when she didn’t think she could be strong ever again, because how could she when she didn’t even remember anything?

(she doesn’t want to remember that part of her life. she was strong then, but she wishes she didn’t have to be. she wishes she didn’t have to be strong in order to survive someone else. too late though, she supposes)

Emily has always been strong, but her strength isn’t in her arms or legs. She loves, even though it’s a quiet love. Emily lets her love burn in her chest, lets it simmer, and when she needs it, she hands it out like it’s nothing. She softly kisses Sammy on the forehead after a particularly rough day and he relaxes. She braids Lily’s hair until her body loses its tension and she smiles gratefully at her. She drives Ben home after shows, and he droops, saying he and Sammy bickered again, or he just wants Sammy to _stay_ goddamnit, and she drives slowly and makes sure he buckles his seatbelt.

It’s a dependable sort of love. That doesn’t mean it’s wrong, Emily hopes.

Be strong, her mother taught her, because her mother is a good person and loves her, even though Emily could have been a much better daughter. Be strong, her mother taught her, and Emily does her best to listen.

Step five: be kind.

Or rather, act kind. In the end, they look the same.

Emily always acts kind, but she can never tell if she’s truly being kind. One may argue they’re the same. She disagrees. Half the time, her kindness isn’t genuine. Not with people like Cynthia Higgenbaum, or people like Greg Frickard. She is good to the people she loves, and half the time she only has the energy to be a too-bright washed-out version of that good to everyone else.

Be kind, because being kind is good. Be kind, because other people deserve kindness. Be kind, because people will remember that you are kind. Be kind, because it will get you farther in the end.

Maybe Emily is a little bit of a bad person. It’s okay. No one knows it but herself.

(and maybe the boy with the curls, the boy that is the color blue, the boy that kissed her in front of a crowd and she didn’t really mind the way she thought she might, the boy who loves her and shouts it to the rooftops. the boy who, against all of her work to be a bright, funny, happy person on the outside, _knows_ her.)

Step six: breathe.

Because you can’t get anywhere without breathing.

And finally, step seven: remember.

Remember _everything_. Before the lights took her, Emily never forgot anything. She was ten minutes early to every appointment, she left post-its with little notes jotted hastily on them all over her apartment so she wouldn’t forget ideas for the library organization or something else equally important. 

Really, most of Emily’s life can be divided right in half: before the rainbow lights, and after the rainbow lights. Before, she was whole. After, she was broken. Before, there was only one of her. After, there was a strange, jerky robot version of herself.

Before, she remembered. After, she forgot.

It was big things, at first. Gaps in her memory. She didn’t know what happened to herself, she still doesn’t, she didn’t remember Ben, she didn’t remember how horrible Greg was- _is_ . But now, she’s just forgetful. And she _hates_ it.

Remember, remember, she tells herself, remember your date with Ben tonight and don’t be late, remember that you left the television remote on the kitchen table. Remember, remember.

Step seven: remember.

•

Emily has been to a few dances in her life. First, there was the eighth grade dance, when she was celebrating going to the high school. Then ninth grade homecoming and all the homecomings following. In eleventh and twelfth grade, prom. She had dates, most of them just close friends, maybe a boyfriend here and a girlfriend there. Emily was well-liked in high school, so she always had a good time.

But it was more of the social aspect when she went- it wasn’t for _dancing_ , despite the name. Which is why when Ben holds out a hand for her in his living room, she laughs in response.

“Dance with me,” he says, grinning, and his nose is all scrunched up. He is very beautiful. “Come on, Em, it’s fun!”

“I-” she starts, and giggles into her hand. “I don’t know how to dance, Benny, I’m not sure what you want me to-”

“Oh, come on,” he cuts in, and grabs her hand and pulls her over to the center of the room, almost tripping on the coffee table. “You’ve never just danced?”

Emily shakes her head, still laughing. “Have you?”

“Well,” he says, “I mean, not really. But come on, how hard can it be?”

One of Ben’s many and varied Spotify playlists is on because he has to have music playing in the background of everything he does, whether that is editing ads or planning a show or the times he just paces in the hallway. A song is playing, something about space and stars and maybe love, and they dance.

It’s silly. It’s very silly; Emily has her hands on Ben’s shoulders and Ben has his hands on her hips and they’re swaying and laughing and she spins him, at one point. She grabs his hand and he laughs and spins around. He tries to do the same to her, and he manages it despite barely being able to reach. _Tell me, did the wind sweep you off your feet?_ the song asks, _did you finally get the chance to dance among the light of day?_

Yes, she answers. She grabs Ben’s back and dips him. “Emily!” he almost shouts, grabbing onto her arms like he’s going to fall, and she laughs at him, and he laughs too. It’s an open-mouthed thing, eyes closed and eyebrows scrunched together. She picks him back up, and kisses him. It’s not a very good kiss, as they’re both smiling, but it’s okay.

 _First dance, freeze-dried romance, five hour phone conversations_ , the song says. Emily agrees. They dance, swaying, smiling, the sun shining in through the half-drawn curtains. Ben’s freckles dot his nose and his cheeks and his eyes are crinkled together and his hair is messy. Emily is sure she is a mess too, her hair falling over her eyes and her glasses just a little crooked. It’s okay.

“I think the only times I’ve ever danced like this were at school dances,” Emily says.

“Me too,” Ben replies, and brushes her hair behind her ear. She smiles, because she always smiles, but this one is real. This love is real. Ben Arnold is real, even if it feels like he shouldn’t be.

Ben Arnold loves people with a passion and takes care of everything he sees including (but not limited to) forgotten sugar gliders, lovely librarians, depressed people with manbuns, depressed people who lost their brother, old men who curse like it's their job, and every insect he sees in his apartment (not that he touches them. he just won’t let Emily kill them). 

“I like dancing,” she decides.

The song plays on. “Me too,” Ben says, grinning, and she spins him again.

•

Ben Arnold isn’t the One, but sometimes Emily Potter thinks he should be.

Emily is Unwritten. In some book, somewhere, her name was crossed out after May 1st, 2016. But she’s back, and her life isn’t planned out like the rest of the world’s. Knowing she shouldn’t exist is… strange, but she doesn’t mind all that much, because Emily loves stories. She can write her own. She wants to write her own.

It’s strange. She has come to terms with the fact that she isn’t made for this world. But being the One? Being the leader of her prophecy? It’s something she doesn’t quite understand.

Emily isn’t the hero of a story! She isn’t even the hero of her own! She doesn’t know how to save the world. She loves stories and she loves Ben Arnold and she loves her people but she can’t bring herself to accept that she’s the main character, here. She doesn’t think she’s the main character.

But Ben? The man who literally brought her back to this world? The man who saved the day and her and Tim and probably the world? Emily always thought he was going to be the One. He’s a hero.

Ben Arnold loves so loudly; his love is something with hands and it reaches to the people he chooses to call his own. He catalogues his love with his fingers and grips Emily’s hand tightly and clings to Sammy’s arm and he will do _anything_ to keep his people safe.

She always thought Ben would be the hero. Emily? Emily is just a storyteller. She reads children’s books every Thursday at her library and pens her own story with every move she makes. 

And yet, here she is. Emily Potter. The One of some prophecy she hasn’t quite translated yet. She’s working on it, though. She’ll figure it out eventually. She’ll figure everything out eventually.

She hopes.

•

Ben has his head in Emily’s lap. Buffy is on the television, but it’s an older episode, so neither of them are really paying attention.

“I think he’s doing better,” Emily says.

Ben smiles. “Yeah,” he says. “He’s not… yeah. He’s okay now, I think. Doing the thing with Lily helped.”

Emily runs her fingers through Ben’s hair. “You know, until then, I didn’t really realize how close they are. Or, at least, how close they _were_.”

Ben hums thoughtfully. “They’ll be close again,” he says. “I know it. Heart stats, Em.”

“I believe you,” she laughs. “But it’s like- well, it’s like they’re siblings. But not like you and Sammy siblings. Like, angry ones.”

“Pretty much,” Ben says. “I mean, they worked together for _years_. And they would have been brother and sister.”

“They would have been.”

“You know,” Ben says, “I think they basically are. I think at this point, they are. I mean, I don’t know for sure, but Sammy says he and Jack met in college, which means they’ve been around each other for- Jack in a Box Jesus, at least eleven or twelve years, maybe more. And Lily was there for all of it.”

Emily nods. “I think that they love each other more than they care to admit. And I think they both see a little too much of themselves in the other.”

Ben tilts his head in acknowledgment. He takes Emily’s hand, the one that was going through his hair, and plays with her fingers. He is a tactile person. “I hope they figure it out,” he says. “How much they love each other.”

“Yeah, well,” Emily agrees, rolling her shoulders and cracking her back, “Lily is too stubborn to admit anything and Sammy is a little bitch, so it might take some time.”

Ben opens his mouth in shock, bursting into laughter and tugging on Emily’s hand. “Em!” he admonishes, and she giggles, shaking her head.

“Am I wrong?” she asks, grinning.

Ben opens his mouth, closes it. Opens it again. Closes it. “I mean,” he says finally, “no. But still. Be nice to Sammy. He’s trying his best.”

“Of course,” Emily says, lowering her voice so she sounds serious, “I have respect for him and the way he _isn’t_ repressing everything now and that manbun on his head. Definitely.”

Ben laughs again, and he’s beautiful. “ _Emily_ ,” he says, drawing out the word.

“You know I meant that,” she says. “I love Sammy almost as much as you do.”

“Almost?”

“I don’t think anyone is on Ben Arnold’s level of love,” she says. “However, I am definitely the person who loves Ben Arnold the most. I won’t let anyone take that from me.”

“My mom might disagree.”

“Well, I’ll fight her for the title, then.”

A beat.

“No, yeah, you’re right,” Emily admits, “I could never fight your mom. Betty is wonderful.”

“She is, isn’t she,” Ben says, and he closes his eyes and holds Emily’s hand. Buffy is still playing in the background, some important plot point or other that Emily’s watched a million times. “I called her every day when I was at college,” Ben says. “I think that’s not what everyone else does.”

Emily smiles. “Like I said. Ben Arnold levels of love.”

He shrugs. “I guess. Do you mind? That I’m so… over the top?”

“Never,” Emily says. Because Emily loves quietly, she lets her love hold its breath, but Ben shouts in front of crowds and she will never mind it, because it’s _Ben_.

“Most people don’t do things like I do them,” Ben says.

“And that’s why I love you, Benny.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

Ben snickers. “I still can’t believe you love Star Wars.”

“Look!” Emily says, affronted. “The original trilogy is good! The prequels objectively suck but I love them because like, Natalie Portman! And the sequels are… well yeah, the only good part of the sequels is Rey, Finn, and Poe, but whatever.”

“Nerd. I can’t believe you like Star Wars but you won’t watch the X Files with me. Aliens, Em!”

“Nerd,” Emily returns. She sighs, dramatically. “I will! Eventually! It’s not like we have a lot of down time, what with everything.”

“We have down time now!”

“Yeah, but it’s Buffy night, and you know better than to mess with Buffy night.”

Ben nods sagely. He sits up, but leans into Emily’s side, still. He is very small, and Emily is very tall, and they are very good at holding one another. 

“I’ll never mind you,” Emily says quietly, and kisses Ben’s forehead. “You’re my happy place, remember?”

He smiles like her words are something to be treasured. She doesn’t know if anyone else is like that. She is rarely treated like a person. “And you’re mine, Emily Potter.”

She holds his hand.

•

The thing about Emily’s plan, the thing about her seven-step way to success she tries to follow every day, is that it doesn’t mean people treat her like a _person_ . It means she is a caricature, she is a nice girl that people like, she is Ben’s girl and then Greg’s girl and then Ben’s girl again. Ben hates it, because Ben is a good person and Emily loves him. Ben talks about Emily’s library, and he loves her too, and he makes sure she’s safe but he trusts her. He knows she can handle herself. Of course, he worries, but Emily understands, she _does_. She feels the same anxiety every night he goes into the station. She meets Sammy’s eyes every night, as if telling him to watch Ben, to watch the man they both love.

It’s a fever she’s learning to live with.

She’s always been a quick thinker, always been one to do her own thing, but that doesn’t mean she has ever been on her own. She hates it, but Emily has always been associated with someone else. The library helps. But having to be saved like some picture perfect princess from the fucking rainbow lights does _not_. She is always someone else’s.

Everyone tells her she isn’t, but Emily knows she is. Maybe that’s why she stayed at the library that night. When she knew Debbie wasn’t trustworthy and that she could definitely die. And the thing is, even after the fire and the roundhouse kick she _shouldn’t_ know how to do and the evil notebook Debbie wanted her to get, she loved it. It gave her a rush of something that was entirely her own. Autonomy, maybe. It was like a breath of fresh air.

Being Unwritten means everything you do is penning it on a new sheet of paper, and the page of the library night is in sharp ink and solid lettering. It was something new, something powerful, and even though she almost went up in flames, she did it _herself_. Emily probably shouldn’t like it as much as she does.

There’s a list in Emily’s head, her own personal notebook, with all the things she probably shouldn’t be. She ignores it. She’s too busy to worry about what she should be anymore. She follows her seven steps, she knows she has flaws, she knows she isn’t sure if she should really be the One, and she knows that nothing matters until they get everyone back from the Void.

Jack Wright. Jack _fucking_ Wright. Emily has realized that if it weren’t for Jack, she probably wouldn’t be here. Not in this place, not the One, not in love and braver than she ever thought she could be. Without Sammy coming to King Falls, starting a radio station, she wouldn’t have met Ben, and she wouldn’t have been driving to the station on May 1, 2016, and she would never have been abducted by whatever the rainbow lights are. She would still be made for this world. 

Everything has always been about Jack, hasn’t it? When it comes down to it. Sammy’s arrival in King Falls, Lily’s podcast, everything, and Jack Wright at the center. He’s more of a concept than a person, to Emily, and she feels bad about that, but it isn’t like she knows him. She knows he is loved. She knows he will be saved. She knows he’s a fixed point in this story of madness of new chapters that were already written. 

Everything has always been about Jack, and everything has always been about love. Those are two things Emily can be sure about. Well, and Ben Arnold, of course, but Ben is a given.

What a pair they are, Emily and Ben. They’re both so dependable in their own ways.

Emily is kind. The lovely Miss Emily Potter, the librarian, the girl next door, the woman who is badass and beautiful but never just badass. And what did she ever do that was so badass, anyway? Survive? People survive every day, so why is she so special? Why is she the One?

Ben is loving, he’s funny and bright and he feels so so deeply. Every emotion seems to be amplified by tenfold, love or hate or whatever. He’s empathetic and good and he loves! He loves! He is deserving of all the love he receives and none of the hate. He is wonderful and he is the color blue.

Emily is always lovely and Ben is always blue, so together they are dependable and good people. She hopes they’re good people. She tries her best.

She hopes she’s a person. She tries her best. But sometimes she wonders if she’s just what other people think she should be.

•

“You have to sit still,” Emily says patiently, and Ben sticks out his tongue. “Oh, come on, really? Are you five?”

“No,” Ben says, affronted. He almost takes his hands back, but Emily gives him a look.

“You have the height of one, I guess,” she says aside, and laughs at his face. “Kidding! I’m kidding!”

“Sure.” Ben shakes his head, trying to convey anger but failing miserably. 

“Do you want me to paint your nails or not?” she asks, and he rolls his eyes before looking pointedly at his spread out hands. “Okay. Now. Sit _still_.”

Emily dips the brush in the paint and spreads it out on his pointer finger, trying to make it even. She hasn’t worn nail polish in a long time, but she remembers how to do it. Mostly. She gets a few clumps on his finger, but oh well, she can clean it off later.

Ben has Spotify playing again, this time some Taylor Swift song blaring from the speakers, and Emily catches him mouthing the lyrics. He looks at his fingernails. “This doesn’t look very professional,” he says, giving her a look that she avoids by painting another. “I want my money back!”

Emily laughs. “I didn’t know I was getting paid!”

“Well,” Ben says, “I guess I can pay you with a kiss. That works.”

“Oh, does it now,” Emily snipes, and Ben rolls his eyes. “And I’m sorry I’m not perfect at painting nails, Benny, I’m not perfect at _everything_.”

It’s bait. Ben knows it. He gives in. “You are perfect,” Ben says dryly, “at everything. The nails look beautiful.”

Emily smiles like this is news to her. “Why, thank you, good sir,” she says, and he laughs. “Of course I’m perfect. Definitely. That’s true.”

“It is,” Ben says, but he’s serious this time. “You’re like, the best, Emily.”

She waves a hand. “Benny I trust you in all things, but you tend to… over exaggerate my qualities.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ben says in a way that implies he knows _exactly_ what she’s talking about. “You’re wonderful and the best person I know.”

“Sammy,” Emily reminds him.

“Yeah, okay, best person I know tied with Sammy.”

“Give me your other hand, and don’t mess up the polish.”

Ben moves hands and inspects the nail polish, a shiny purple. “I like it,” he decides.

“Me too,” Emily says.

“I like _you_ ,” Ben says brightly.

Emily smiles. “Is this third grade?” she asks. “You certainly look the part.”

“ _Emily_ ,” he groans. “Will you ever stop making fun of my height?”

“Absolutely not,” she says.

“But really, Em, I think you’re the best.”

“I think you’re the best,” Emily says, and she successfully paints his ring finger without getting purple all over his finger. “I appreciate the love, Benny, I just think you give me a bit too much credit.”

“I do not!” he says, affronted. “I only tell the truth, Emily. Don’t tell me you’re taking a note from Sammy’s book and being all self-deprecating-”

“Benny,” Emily cuts in, “are you saying thay my _tiny_ self-doubt is on Sammy’s level of self-loathing? You know better than that.”

Ben sighs. "Okay, you have a point. The point is, you're amazing and no matter what you say, you can't change that.

Emily smiles at him. Squeezes his hand, watching not to smudge the polish. “Your nails are done! Now they just have to dry for like, an hour.”

“You expect me to not do things for an hour? Emily, you _know_ me-”

Emily laughs. “I’ll write in your notebook for you, sweetheart. Just tell me what you want to write.”

Ben leans in, kisses her. “There,” he says, “is that a good payment for your fine work?”

“I think that is perfectly sufficient,” Emily replies, “and since my work wasn't up to your standards, your reimbursement will come in the form of baking cookies. After the polish dries."

Ben grins. “You are wonderful,” he says, and she doesn’t bother to disagree this time.

•

Emily Potter is Unwritten; she is Unwritten and she does her best to move past that. She wasn’t meant for this world. She doesn’t know what that even means, but she should be somewhere else, and she has to live with it.

So she writes her new story, scratches out the story where she was gone forever, she shouts and makes a mess despite always wanting to do things quietly. She is strong. Probably stronger than she knows.

Then there is Ben Arnold, boy in the shape of a man, so full of love that it spills over. Emily kisses him and holds his hand and feels like she shouldn’t be allowed to; Emily knows that Ben is the reason she has the strength to be a person.

Ben saved her, because of course he did! He loves her, he’s always loved her, and that’s something Emily never thought she would be worthy of. Emily is strong and good, but she’s always been doing it on her own. But Ben saved her, and maybe that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Maybe it can be okay.

Emily loves people though not as much as Ben and Emily protects the people she loves though not as much as Sammy and Emily is strong through not as much as Lily and she’s a mix of everything at once. Emily is the One and also Everyone. She’s interesting.

She’s also angry, which is new. Emily’s always covered up anger. But now she lets it burn, lets the anger simmer in her chest with her love.

 _Can you hear me?_ she asks, hearing Ben's song in her mind. _Is this microphone live?_

There are four of them, a Protector and a Promised and a Heart and a One. It seems like Emily should be separated, a singular one in what's supposed to be a group, but she knows she can’t be. She needs her people as much as they might need her. There are four of them, and they are going to save the world. Or maybe just King Falls. But when you’re in this town, isn’t it the world? Isn’t King Falls a universe of its own?

Emily doesn’t think she should be the protagonist of this story, but it’s the role she’s got. And she’ll be damned if she doesn’t try her hardest.

So Emily smiles, and follows her steps, and holds Ben’s hand.


End file.
